The Duke is Wicked (League of Lords #3) - Tracy Sumner Page 0,35

never been so aroused in his life.

Julian tapped his pencil on the table. “How could she have memorized it in ten minutes? That was all the time she had, at most, in that room.”

“She’s drifted away, gone into her attic, then been surprised at how much time had passed when she returned. Why does it have to be relative, this exchange? Maybe she goes in, and one hour on her side is like a minute in ours? It’s certainly possible. As much as a duke shooting sparks from his bloody fingertips.”

“And this person coercing her?”

“I was supposed to win a horse race and get that information out of her…” Then she’d touched him, and all hell had broken loose. And she’d ridden off with his groom instead.

“A wager?” Julian’s pencil halted on the page. “What kind of strategy is that?”

He tapped the stone against his temple. “A clever strategy. Very competitive, this chit.”

Julian blinked, coughed into his fist, then continued sketching. “You like her.” Spoken in an astonished tone that stated it was the brashest comment he’d made in years.

“Oh, Christ, don’t start,” Sebastian said, and slipped the Soul Catcher in his waistcoat pocket with more force than required. He heard the silk rip. “With all the difficulties in my life—mystical gift, six properties to manage, desire to produce an heir who doesn’t start fires like his papa—I’m not adding a feral heiress with a mind like a trap to the mix.” He knocked a saucer into the middle of the table with his hand. “A commoner, you recall, not one drop of the blue blood to which I’m required to attach myself.”

“Hmm, I didn’t know you cared about that. Aside from you, the people I value most in this world have none. Blue blood that is. My wife does, in part, but it’s considered tainted. When your mother is an American actress, you may as well be illegitimate.” Julian tilted his head to inspect his drawing, then added another stroke. “The newly christened Kitty Hazelton, blue blood aplenty, would make everyone happy, now wouldn’t she? Everyone except you.”

Sebastian leaned across the table, coiled mahogany cutting into his belly. “Piper and Victoria calm our gifts. Bring constancy and control. Miss Temple makes me want to torch London from one end to the other, then move on to Bath.”

Julian licked his fingertip and smoothed it over a charcoal streak. “Granted, Piper calms me, but she hasn’t fixed me. The same for Finn and Victoria. Love is what’s healing. I can’t believe you’re a year older, and a duke to boot, and I’m compelled to explain this.”

Sebastian gave the lank of hair that had fallen into his eyes a swipe and sank low in his chair. “Everyone doesn’t find true love, Jules. Even dukes. Especially dukes.”

“Yes, but some do.” Julian gave him a probing look, then went back to his drawing, telling Sebastian he was the subject of the spontaneous portraiture. “I long to sketch you with a dagger in your fist and a patch over your eye to go along with your flowing locks. Long enough to tie back, my friend. Thinking of cutting it anytime soon?”

Delaney likes it. He frowned, searching his mind. Had he thought that? First thing, without provocation?

But she did like it. He grasped this, as a man of experience would. Naiveté on her part that she let him know, which made him question her experience.

This deduction in opposition to her reputation.

More intrigue surrounding a woman he didn’t want to want this badly.

He couldn’t explain to Julian that the distance between them was too great even if he acquiesced to his body’s call to touch her.

There would always be barriers—his past, his gift, her secrets.

Delaney was right; Honoria didn’t know about the violin. She didn’t know about his abuse at the hands of his father, which, when he’d awakened once during his illness, he’d been recounting in his sleep. With Delaney sitting beside the bed, maybe even holding his hand, comforting in the intimate way Julian meant.

He hadn’t felt like burning down the city then.

The split-second of panic was overwhelming. “I know you don’t agree, Jules, but I think I’m going to ask Lady Hazelton to marry me.”

Julian’s mouth kicked up, a reverse frown. “You say that like you have a sore tooth and require a dentist.”

Sebastian ticked off the points on his fingers. “She’s suitable. A member of the League. Knows about my issues. Is—”

“Foolish, beautiful, overly chatty, superficial. Let the right man have her, the